The Meeting
by morgana07
Summary: Alone & sick, a common attack leaves Sam bleeding & hurt when a chance meeting saves his life but brings back the past to both Winchesters in a way that neither had been expecting. *Hurt/limp/angsty!Sam & Concerned/worried/angry/angsty/big brother!Dean* Set before 08x20 Pac-Man Fever.
1. Chapter 1

**The Meeting**

**Summary: **_Alone & sick, a common attack leaves Sam bleeding & hurt when a chance meeting saves his life but brings back the past to both Winchesters in a way that neither had been expecting. *Hurt/limp/angsty!Sam & Concerned/worried/angry/angsty/big brother!Dean*_

**Warnings/Spoilers: **_It'll have some minor language and a little minor violence. There will be spoilers from the more recent episodes. Set before 08x20 Pac-Man Fever._

**Tags: **_ None._

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own the boys or anything to do with the show. This is just for fun._

**Author Note: **_This kind of connects with a couple of my more recent stories, including 'The Last Mistake' for its mention of Walt and also 'Shadow Watcher' to explain who or how this meeting can happen. Enjoy._

**Chapter One**

"Damn it. This just isn't good."

Sam Winchester stared at the cellphone in his shaking hand as if willing it not to be dead. He could've sworn he'd charged the damn thing earlier in the week so he hadn't worried about it when getting dropped off at the local library in whatever town he and Dean were in.

He'd had to pitch as close to a full out temper tantrum to even allow his suddenly once again way too manic over protective brother to even let him out of his sight to do research into the possible case that had brought them to…Lexington, Vermont.

Sam knew he wasn't in top shape either physically or mentally after doing two of the three trials that needed done in order to seal the gates of Hell for good. He'd long since given up on the idea that he could do these and some out of it in one piece. Now he was just hoping to be alive…mainly for his brother's sake.

As hunters of the weird, undead, or just plain odd both Sam and his older brother had been on the receiving end of some serious shit in their lives, especially the last eight years since they began hunting together again but it had a long time since Sam could honestly say he was feeling this bad.

Not even last year or so when he was struggling to stay sane while Lucifer's voice was running loose in his head was it this bad. Not even after Sam landed in a psych ward did he feel this bad, which if he thought about it should have worried him more.

What mainly worried Sam these days was getting through this last trial, once they figured out what it was, and not disappointing his brother.

For Sam, Dean had been the main source of support growing up. Even though he couldn't remember it, he'd been told by both Bobby and Pastor Jim that it had been his brother's name he'd first said and it was to Dean that he'd taken his first steps to, not his Dad.

It had been a long time since Sam had given any real thought toward John Winchester, which was something else he knew he should feel bad about since the man had been his father but there were still so many things left unsaid between them before John died. Things that Sam now wished he could've resolved.

Thoughts of his Dad had been coming up more now that he realized how the trials were affecting him. Sam knew his Dad had sacrificed his life so Dean would live. Though that brought up questions that he really didn't want to voice right then and since his Dad was dead there'd be no since anyway.

Usually thoughts of John reminded Sam of the pieces of his childhood that he didn't like to think on. He and his Dad hadn't always gotten along, usually didn't get along if Sam was honest with himself because unlike his older brother he didn't like to jump at orders without knowing the why or who parts of it and John wasn't big on explaining himself.

Dean was the perfect son and Sam had never had doubts about that. He'd grown up knowing that Dean could do no wrong in their Dad's eyes while Sam could hardly do anything right.

That should've caused some bitterness in him towards his brother but Sam had never felt anything like that towards Dean. His bitterness and resentment usually was aimed at their Father and as Sam knew those feelings only got worse as he got older.

John had become obsessive with finding the thing that had killed their Mother when Sam was a baby and that obsession drove him. He raised his sons as hunters, as soldiers and while Sam accepted it now, understood it more now back then he hated it and it had drove a wedge between father and son that had never really been repaired.

Now that he wasn't sleeping that well again, his thoughts were turning more and more to back when he'd been younger and his Dad. He knew Dean had strived to keep things as calm as possible between them when the fights had gotten worse and he knew his brother had given up a lot so that Sam could have the normal life he'd been wanting despite John's refusal that had caused Sam to walk out one night.

The bitterness and resentment had leveled off in the past few years as Sam had finally begun to see his Dad's motivations even though he wished either he'd have seen it sooner or his Dad would've just leveled with him and Dean on things that they really should've known.

For Sam, it was the other night when he'd woken up choking on blood and a split second of terror hit him that suddenly made him wish he could see his Dad at least once. If for no other reason than to tell him that he understood.

Of course, he also figured it would've been easier to drop the eventual huge, mother of all chick flick moment on his brother soon than it would their Dad since Dean learned all of his anti-emotional, never let 'em see you sweat rules from their Dad.

Shaking the morose feelings aside to remember the dead cellphone in his hand and the whole reason he'd left the local library in such a hurry, Sam cursed violently while making a quick grab for one of the large stone lions outside the building to keep his balance.

Dean had dropped him off before heading for the local police station to play Federal agent in order to get some information but wasn't due back for at least another forty minutes or so unless Sam called him sooner.

"'_Call me if you find anything useful or if you need me_,'" Dean had said to him before driving off.

The lessening of the strain and gap between them was a relief for Sam since he'd missed him and Dean really acting like brothers in the last few years but there were still times when his older brother's 'protect Sammy' side got to be annoying to Sam.

This was not one of those times and he really wished his brother had decided to swing back to the library early because Sam knew this was one of those times he needed Dean.

The research inside hadn't really been getting him anywhere and Sam was at the point of wondering if maybe the string of disappearances along an old dirt road outside of town was maybe something normal…like a deranged serial killer.

He'd been about to try another angle when he first noticed how much his right hand was shaking. Pushing that aside as common these days since he'd been getting weaker on the right side since the first trial happened, he went on digging for clues…until his vision blurred out and he felt the blood start dripping from his nose.

Sam knew these were the more serious symptoms of whatever was happening to him since he began the trials even though these normally didn't happen unless he'd strained during the day or it was late at night and he'd end up throwing up in the bathroom for the rest of the night.

Knowing his own body and knowing what would more than likely happened next, Sam knew he needed out of the library and back to the motel but first that required calling his brother for a pickup while trying not to freak Dean out in the process since he hadn't exactly told his older brother about all the new things that had been happening.

Dean had made him promise not to lie to him about anything that was wrong with him and from Sam's point of view he wasn't exactly lying to his brother since Dean hadn't asked him if anything new had cropped up.

He considered it more like stretching the truth if it meant protecting Dean as long as possible from the thought of what might really be called for by the end of this.

Right then though Sam knew that plan was out the window because the second Dean took a look at him he knew his brother would see the truth and the second Sam could see straight again or move without puking he'd be in store for one hell of a huge lecture or it would finally come down to the time when Dean decided shutting Hell just wasn't worth this much risk to Sam.

They'd had this discussion a few times. It was either stop, start over so Dean could take it on or just stop all together and keep on going with them fighting Hell and Crowley every step of the way.

Those 'discussions' usually ended up with Dean showing more open emotion than he had in years and Sam trying to make his brother understand that he could do this and come out alright.

Now Sam wasn't so sure he could and the fear of either failing at the end, dying, or worse which would mean Dean doing something stupid was causing him to wonder if he could do this.

Despite his doubts though Sam knew it was too late to quit. Whatever was wrong with him now was having serious permanent effects, he could feel it now, and that was also something he'd have to tell Dean soon…if he got a hold of his brother before he crashed tonight.

Groaning as the pain like lava shot through his body, Sam dropped to the steps as his legs seemed to give out on him. "Shit!" thrusting the phone into his pocket, he debated on trying to get back inside the library to see if someone would call Dean for him before he got to the point where the pain made him pass out.

Sam gritted his teeth when he tried to push himself up only to feel his right arm and leg go numb. Fighting panic, he decided to push it aside as if not focusing on it would make it go away but the second pain hit in his stomach like a fist to the gut he knew he was in trouble.

"Mister, you okay?"

The sudden male voice had Sam tensing. His hunter trained instincts had dimmed that night due to the pain he was in and the lack of concentration had allowed someone or multiple people since he could hear other dull voices even if he couldn't see clearly right then.

Fighting down the groan along with the taste of blood in his throat, Sam shook his head to clear it and finally was able to locate the voice.

Despite being in pain, feeling like crap and really just wanting to curl up someplace dark until this round passed, a single look at the group of four or five young men told Sam that they weren't just students going to the library for a late study session.

An early childhood of growing up with an ex-Marine for a Father who drilled self-awareness into his sons in addition to growing up with Dean who had taught his brother early on to trust his gut instincts over anything else warned the hunter that this was trouble.

"Uh, yeah, I'm…fine," Sam replied, again trying to stand only to feel both legs give out but tried to make it appear as if he was just resting. "Just decided to sit outside before my ride gets here," he forced his left shoulder to shrug but a look at the men made an uneasy chill go through him.

All five of them were probably around Sam's age or a little younger which would've put them in the late twenties but as Sam's hazel eyes cleared he noticed the worn jeans, dirty T-shirts and the near predator looks in hungry eyes.

Sam learned early on in life that it wasn't just the supernatural things that could hurt him. He'd been hurt more than once by evil of the human nature too and these five were ringing the same alarm bells in him that he'd felt before.

Predators came in a lot of packages and Sam had learned the hard way when he was looking at that type of evil. He also knew when their kind spotted a potential victim and right at that moment he knew they were sharks who were smelling blood and without being able to even pull his sidearm or knife Sam realized he was in a very bad way.

"You don't look so good," the one who'd spoken, who appeared to be the leader, gave Sam another look before glancing at his friends. "We've been watching since you came outta the library. It didn't look like your phone was working so maybe…we can give you a lift someplace. For a price, that is."

Wondering why there was never an Angel or even an annoying King of Hell around when you wanted one, Sam fought back the way his already twisting stomach flipped at that suggestion and made his face stoic. "No, thanks," he replied tightly. "Look, you guys really don't want this. Just back off."

Sam knew he could've pulled that warning off a lot better if he could get to his feet since at 6'4" he was taller than most of these guys but right then he was just impressed when he was finally able to pull himself up, grateful that his legs seemed to decide to cut him a break and move.

"You don't seem to get it, Mister," the lead thug, with slicked back black hair and two earrings in one ear, stepped in front of Sam as he moved away from the steps. "This is our area and no one comes into it without paying us and you look like the type who can afford it," he reached out to flick a finger over the collar of Sam's jacket with a smirk. "Besides, there're five of us and just one of you and you look like you've already been dragged down a road or two."

Basic instincts had Sam moving to both deflect the hand and put some distance between himself and the group when something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Trying to concentrate on just staying on his feet and seeing where the rest of the group of hoods were, Sam could have sworn someone was watching him but a quick if blurry look around didn't show him anything but a darkening parking lot, a few cars and the woods that bordered this side of the library.

"Back off and go hassle someone else," he warned in a voice that reminded a little too much of the tone hid Dad and brother would use when pissed off. "I don't want this and I'm not the usual kind you're used to."

Seeing the surprise on the leader's face told Sam that he needed to get as far from the parking lot as he could since while he was on his feet he could tell it was only a temporary thing and his right arm still wouldn't allow him to defend himself if the jackasses chose to push the issue.

Shifting the bag with his laptop and files over to his left hand, Sam had seen a restaurant on the next street that he could hopefully find a phone to call Dean from and maybe something to settle his stomach when long ago learned instincts made him sense the attack before the first blow from a thin hard stick came.

Usually the clumsy ill prepared angry attack would have been easy for Sam to dodge and respond to. This time, due to how he was feeling, Sam's reflexes were shot to hell and he took the blow on the crown of his head which knocked him off balance.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed, unaware of how much like his brother's use of that word he sounded like when he tried to catch himself only to feel a hard kick to the back of an already unsteady leg put him down on the wet pavement.

"Not so tough now are you, hotshot?" the leader sneered, jerking his head. "Get him up!" he snapped, kicking the bag out of Sam's weakening hand for later inspection.

Trying to get back up or reach for his weapon, Sam grunted as a fist struck his already pained stomach and nearly gagged. Feeling his body fight for strength, he tensed when two of the other men grabbed him by the arms to pull him upright.

Being grabbed and held brought back other memories that made Sam try to fight but right then his weakened body just wasn't cooperating, leaving him helpless against the brutal beating that came next.

Tasting and seeing blood, Sam thought he heard a woman shout from the library onto to be told to mind her own business by the leader of the attack.

"Don't…" gasping as another strong right hand hit his face, Sam felt things start to go fuzzy only to tense on instinct at the feel of someone touching him as if to grab for his wallet. "No…that's…argh!"

Sharp burning pain ripped across his side as a light reflected off the short boot knife that had been pulled and cut through his jacket and shirt. "Asshole, we own you," the leader gritted, grabbing a handful of Sam's hair to yank his head back. "You're wallet's just the damn start. You should've just handed it over to start with. Now me and the boys're gonna make a lesson outta you," he bragged, raising the knife. "Starting with that smart mouth or…"

"_Hey_!"

Tensing as best he could despite his body nearly being numb from both shock, pain, and his already weakened system, Sam's ringing ears picked up the sudden shout from what seemed to be close by and felt an odd sense of déjà vu because while Dean still said it when angry and needing to get attention it wasn't his brother's voice that Sam heard.

Knife still in hand, the leader whirled toward the new voice. With two of his friends still holding their new toy of the night, he knew he and the other two would be enough to scare off whatever good and decent citizen decided to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

"Move along, old man or you'll get some of what pretty boy here's about to get!" he threatened, showing his knife as it alone would scare away the bystander. "You don't want a part of this!"

"Really? I don't think you know just how wrong you are about that," the man who'd shouted remarked calmly, his voice low and gruff but his cool green eyes hardened as he looked past the three hoods that were sizing him up to glare at the two still holding Sam. "Let him go."

Used to easily scaring the people they came across or accosted, the small group didn't quite know what to make of the new arrival.

They'd sized Sam up. Normally his size and build would've made them wary of messing with him. Until they watched him longer and noticed how ill he seemed then it was like sharks circling bloody prey. He still might give them a rough time until the beatings took effect but they all were confident that they could handle him.

This new guy, the older man who'd spoke up in his defense, appeared to be in his late forties or mid-fifties with greying black hair that brushed the collar of his worn and battered dark leather jacket. His scruffy looking beard was also greying but it was the look in his green eyes that gave off the inkling that he wasn't just a normal guy passing by.

Not that it bothered the leader much who still thought his gang of hoods and a small boot knife made them unbeatable. "Move along, old man," he growled, stepping toward the man with his knife held ready. "I'll gut you like I have this jackass."

A small twitch of the man's jaw was the only indication of a reaction to that comment. Hard eyes went around the group as if deciding which ones were the more dangerous and while he'd easily decided which one was the boss he knew the two holding Sam were the ones that needed dealt with.

"You think that's a good knife?" he inquired curiously, carefully moving his right hand back under his jacket while motioning with his left toward the group. "You seriously think just because you've probably got the senior citizens of this town scared of you with it that it's a good enough blade to use on someone who really knows what a good blade can do?"

"It's good enough to cut you, asshole," the young hood sneered, not liking the way this guy wasn't backing off like he should've been and he was sick of being made a fool of. "I'll show you!" he took a quick lunge forward to slash the blade while his other two friends went to flank the fool.

Expecting some kind of attack, the man wasn't surprised by the move. In fact, he seemed grimly amused except a brief look toward Sam told him that he needed to end this and get the boy help.

Stepping back, he avoided the knife cut that had been too clumsy to have really done any damage if it had connected. Deflecting the fist that had come from one side with his open left hand, he pulled what he'd been reaching for out and used the handle of it to hit the one thug in the side of the head.

Not forgetting the last hood, the man quickly turned to grab the offending wrist and twisted it hard, hearing a satisfied scream as he let go to finally turn back to face the leader, stepping down hard on his hand when he went to retrieve the knife and showed his own weapon.

"That's not even worth being called a knife. This is a knife," he shifted the well-worn machete while sliding a dark look toward the remaining two guys who still held Sam but were looking nervous. "Now take my advice, if you don't want to see what this can do…let the boy go. Now," he ordered in a voice that could've frozen hell as he added directly to the leader. "You think anyone in this town will miss you? I can make sure you don't ever threaten another soul if you don't tell them to let him go and get the hell out of here."

Watching the machete gripped in a hand of someone who clearly knew how to use it, the thugs exchanged looks with each other before deciding what was the best choice for them regardless of what their pal said.

Dropping Sam the two who'd been restraining him along with other two who had by this time picked themselves up off the ground took off running away from the library, leaving their leader behind.

"Come back here!" he shouted, red faced at being made a fool of and from being left alone. "We outnumber him! We…ugh!"

A fist grabbed him by the throat to lift him to his feet, slamming him back against a nearby lamppost with the blade of the large knife held an inch from his throat. "Numbers don't mean much when you're fighting someone who knows how to fight back," he declared, anger plain in his eyes even if his voice remained cold but calm.

"That boy you decided would make a good target tonight? If he was healthy, if he wasn't already hurt, he could've mopped the floor with each one of you sons of bitches without even trying or pulling a weapon," the man's eyes glittered now as he moved the knife to slam his fist into the thug's face until he dropped, bloody and unmoving to the pavement. "I know he could…because I watched his brother teach him and I taught his brother."

Giving another hard look at the punk, he turned at a low moan and was kneeling beside Sam in the next moment. "Damn," he muttered, carefully moving the younger man when he saw blood on Sam's shirt and knew the cut had been more than superficial. "Sam?" he called, feeling for a pulse and not liking either how cold Sam's skin seemed or by the way the pulse in his neck beat erratically. "Sam, open your eyes. We need to move."

Pretty certain that someone in the library or somewhere had called the cops, he didn't want the hassle of the local law enforcement now any more than he had when the boys had been small…which reminded him that he needed to find out where in the hell Sam's brother was during this. "Sam!"

Body in shock, Sam felt like throwing up or just passing out but knew both of those options weren't in the cards at the moment. He'd known something had changed in the altercation even though he hadn't been able to summon even enough strength to break free from two punks.

The cut from the knife had caused his body to go deeper into shock and he knew he was losing more blood but couldn't make himself move to defend himself much less find a way to call his brother.

Jerking at the touch of a hand to his neck, he tried to push it away only to feel strong calloused fingers grab his wrist to hold it down as his pulse was checked.

Sam thought he heard his name being called but it wasn't until he heard the deep, gruff voice snap it in a way that Sam knew he'd never forget that his eyes struggled to open to look for…

"…D…Dad?"

John Winchester hadn't fully figured out why he was back on Earth alive or who'd put him there again. He just knew it was for some reason and that it involved his sons. The sons he hadn't seen in nearly seven years…since he died.

He'd been keeping an eye on Sam from a distance since he got back and learned that something had happened to separate his boys.

Without an open source, it had taken John a lot of digging to learn just what his sons had been doing the past several years and he honestly wasn't happy with a lot of it…though he knew most of it was more his fault since he was the one who'd dragged his boys into this life and hadn't been able to prepare them for things that he'd only seen coming when it was too late to prevent it.

Right then he knew his biggest job was to get Sam someplace safe. Someplace where he could see how bad he was hurt and decide if a hospital would be needed…and maybe learn where his oldest son was while his brother was being beaten to a bloody pulp.

"C'mon, Sam, we need to get out of here," he noticed the bag Sam had dropped and snatched it up while also taking Sam's arm to wrap it around his neck and shoulders to get his younger son back to his feet but had to bury a grunt when it became obvious to John that this was not the same boy he was used to moving. "A little help, son."

Blinking and pretty sure he was back to having hallucinations, Sam debated on moving or fighting when he caught sight of the tiny scar on the inside of John's left wrist that made his memory tingle. "How'd…you get that?" he asked, shaking his head as if to clear it and not resisting when he was finally pulled to his feet.

"Now is not the time, Sam," John grumbled, wondering what the hell Dean had fed his brother these past several years to cause him to seem so heavy but then remembered that Sam had always been like dead weight when he was barely on his feet.

Sensing more than seeing the standard bitch face Sam was prone to give; John blew out a breath as he figured the distance between them and where he'd parked his car. "You know where I got it," he replied then guessed why Sam had asked and figured more of Dean's suspicious side had rubbed off on him than he thought. "You were six and Dean was trying to teach you to swim at Jim's place. Your brother got distracted by lunch; you wandered off on your own and got tangled in some barbwire that had floated down. I got cut when I went in after you."

Sam's memory was sparse of that day but he did recall playing in the water, chasing his ball into deep a section and the sharp wire that he'd gotten hook in that pulled him under water as he tried to swim. He also remembered his Dad being the one to save him and he hadn't even yelled that time.

Deciding he was probably dreaming this, he chose to go with it at least until he woke up or Dean got to him. Whichever came first.

"Mister! I called the cops!" a short and petite woman called from the library door, looking at the parking lot. "Should I call an ambulance?"

"No, I've got him," John called back, guessing he probably didn't appear any safer than the thugs to the woman but wasn't in any position to explain things to the cops since he'd just finish dealing with them on a missing persons case. "Just have the cops lock this guy up and…" he paused to consider it. "If anyone shows up looking for him, probably a guy in a black Chevy Impala with a cheap suit and an attitude, tell him he's supposed to watch out for his brother."

John knew this wasn't Dean's fault since Sam was past the age to willingly accept being watched out for but since John had been watching his sons from the shadows he'd seen the change in Sam and had also noticed that Dean hardly let his brother out of his sight.

Recalling the days when his youngest son had been small enough to easily fit in the crook of his arm, it still amazed John that the baby he'd watched Mary bring into this world was now taller than both him and Dean at 6'4" and was nearly dead weight as John struggled to keep him standing long enough to get to his car.

The Chevy Corolla wasn't the Impala or the huge truck he used to drive but it suited John's purposes now as he only needed a way to get around even if he didn't fully understand the GPS thing and missed the old time cassette player in the Impala.

"Easy, Sam," he gritted his teeth while taking the brunt of the weight as he helped Sam ease into the much more cramped front seat. "Where's Dean, Sam?" he asked while looking around.

He'd parked the car back in the woods some to avoid being seen since he'd caught on that if he wanted to watch the boys without being seen or sensed then he needed to stay way back, still amazed at how close Dean had come to spotting him several times after his return from Purgatory.

"Uhhh…cops," Sam had to think for several seconds, struggling to remember why he wasn't with his brother and wishing Dean was there now because he was really in pain, knowing he probably needed stitches. "Missing…people…back road."

"Vampires and they're dealt with," John rolled his eyes, glad he'd handled that nest he'd accidentally stumbled across. "Let me look," he'd noticed the bloodstain growing and went to move his son's shirt up only to feel Sam go rigid and saw the way his hand clenched. "Sam, how bad're you hurt?"

"From what?" came the short reply and again John was reminded that Sam had picked up a few of Dean's more annoying habits, especially the smart mouth when he was hurt.

Grabbing a blanket from the backseat, John eased it around Sam to try to ward off further shock and was finally able to at least ease the shirt up enough to grit his teeth but managed not to let out the next few harsh words. "This needs more stitches than I'm willing to give, Sam."

"Never…stopped you before," Sam mumbled, looking down at the wound and not seeming too worried. "Got worse…while Dean was…in Hell," he decided with a frown. "I'd do it…but the right hand…it's too…God!"

Shifting just in time to avoid the mess when Sam suddenly threw up out the still open car door, John knew without a doubt that Sam was hurting from more than just this beating and the knife wound.

Grabbing for Sam's shoulder to keep him sitting in the Corolla, John did recall the many times when the boys had been younger that trips to the ER had been vetoed because explaining gunshot wounds, or injuries caused by spirits or other supernatural things just would've been too hard to explain.

John had stitched himself up plenty of times and he'd taught both of his sons to do the same. Usually it took a serious injury or illness to cause John to relent to taking one of them to the hospital.

Back then his reasons seemed sound. Now, he wasn't so sure and he couldn't stop the pain in his heart that his sons had ended up in this life or had suffered so much.

"Yeah, well now you're going to a hospital," John decided, going to the trunk to grab a few things then quickly returned to his glassy eyed son who seemed to be focusing on the blood he'd wiped from his nose. "Hold this over that cut and lay your head back," he urged, pressing the clean rag over the knife cut then replaced his hand with Sam's when he realized how weak his son's grip was.

Starting the car, John was glad for the GPS in the car since it would give him the most direct route to the local hospital when he felt eyes on him. "You still with me, Sammy?" he asked without looking over, then smiled a little in the dark of the car. "Or is your brother still the only one you'll let call you that?"

"Usually," Sam admitted slowly, feeling like crap and wanting to sleep but something made him keep his eyes open as he tried to think what was happening.

He remembered the library, getting sick and wanting out. He remembered the group of hoods jumping him and the knife that slashed him but it was when he recalled hearing the voice that things began going weird for him.

Sam had just been thinking about his Dad moments before the attack so he figured that could explain why he'd heard his voice. He just wasn't sure it could explain being in a car on the way to a hospital but that he was willing to chalk up to his mind playing tricks on him.

"Call…him?" he murmured, figuring Dean was going to be pissed when he found out about this and not wanting to worry his brother more than he had been. "Dad, you real?"

Chuckling at the way his youngest son could go from asking for his brother to the more clinical tone of wondering if this was real or a dream, John reached to flip the heater on to keep Sam warm while holding out a hand. "Yes and give me your phone."

"Why're you real and stupid…phone's dead," Sam let his head fall back to the seat but managed to use his left hand to pull his cellphone out anyway. "No…juice, which reminds me…Dean needs to buy more."

Now a little worried, John looked over to see glassy hazel eyes that seemed blown wide open with shock were watching him much like they would when Sam was small and sick and he realized that no matter what Sam probably wouldn't remember this.

John had never intended to let his sons know he was back for several reasons. The main one to him was that he wasn't sure how long he'd be allowed to stay and so he didn't want the boys to see him, talk to him only for him to lose them again.

The other reason was he knew a good deal of what both Dean and Sam had gone through since his death and he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with the questions either of them would have or the hate since he sure couldn't blame either of his sons for hating him, especially Sam.

It had always been Sam that John had tried to protect. Even before he'd fully come to understand things he'd known Sam was the last baby he and Mary had brought into this world and he'd always protect him.

Then it had become more clear as to what had killed Mary and what seemed to be interested in his son and John realized the lengths of what he'd have to do to shield Sam, even if it meant one day losing both of his sons.

Now he had a chance to see at least one of his sons and just hoped he wasn't watching Sam bleed out in his car as he drove to a hospital that was farther away than he liked.

"Disappointed?"

The sudden question brought John's mind back to the present as he noticed that Sam's eyes were still watching him. "Say again?" he wasn't sure if the shock and pain Sam was in was making him more confused or what had brought this on when he still saw another bad habit the boy still had and sighed. "Son, don't roll your eyes. Am I disappointed in what?"

"In me," Sam mumbled, hissing as his arm suddenly burned and he nearly lost his grip on the rag held over the bleeding wound until a strong hand laid over his. "I've…kinda…screwed up since you…died," he blinked a few times against the wetness.

Sam guessed he was either bleeding out or having hallucinations but figured since he'd just been wishing to have another moment with his Dad that he may as well take advantage of it.

"You were…disappointed in me…before now…it'd be worse," he went on slowly, thinking back to this childhood after he learned what his Dad really did to all the bitter fights over hunting, training and just all around differences in opinion between them. "I…was never…like De'n. Didn't…wanna hunt. Disappointed you…you'd hate me…now if you…knew…"

Tightening the grip he had on Sam's to make sure he kept the pressure on that wound, John's eyes went to slits as he listened to that halting admission, hearing the self-hate in the too soft voice. "Sam."

"You knew what I'd be cause you told Dean he'd have to watch me or handle it. Did…you know when I was small?" Sam asked, all the questions he'd been wondering about for nearly all his life rushing together. "That why you were always…harder on me? Cause you knew I'd…be a freak? That I'd be evil? Did you know that I'd…cost De'n his soul and get hooked on demon blood, let Lucifer out of his box and just keep failing until Dean thought being friends with a vampire…would be better than being brothers with…me? Did you…"

"Okay, that's enough," John had listened to the rambling sentence that was mixed with soft gasps as Sam fought both pain and tears until finally he'd heard enough of both spoken and the unspoken that he pulled off the side of the road so he didn't get them both killed.

Figuring the time his son had been bleeding and gauging the time he needed to reach the hospital told John how long he had to try to get a few things through to Sam because while it had been fine at one time to allow the boy to think he was never as good as his older brother or that John had always thought less of him…it wasn't fine now and he supposed it was time he dealt with it.

"Look at me, Sam," he ordered in the same tone he always had when wanting the boy's attention and knowing only the strict no nonsense tone would garner Sam's full undivided attention. "I know we left a lot of stuff unsaid and unresolved between us but…"

"You said…don' come back if I walked and I walked," Sam looked down at his father's hand as if surprised to see it covering his own. "Just wanted to go to school…not lose my family. Now…I'll still probably lose…"

That final night between him and Sam, the fight over his going away to school wasn't ever far from John's thoughts even before he died. He and his youngest had been having a lot of fights since Sam hit his teens but if John was honest with himself that last one had been the worst…it had also been the hardest one for John to fake.

Turning in the seat so he could look fully at his injured son, John Winchester shook his head. "Sam, listen to me. I know you're hurt now and probably won't even remember this but…you're not a disappointment to me. You never were," he began, guessing he owed Sam this much truth at least even if he could never tell him all of it.

"I didn't learn everything about the demon, your Mom, or you…until the very end. By the time I did, it was too late for me to do anything but try my best to end it and when that didn't work, when I realized the only way to save your brother was to make that damn deal then yes, I told Dean some of it but not everything.

"I told your brother what he'd need to know to keep you safe because if there was one damn thing I knew for certain is no matter what I said to Dean about you that he'd never kill you…that he'd find some way to help you," John had learned exactly what his oldest son had done and he wished more than anything that he could've spared Dean that pain and Sam the guilt he still carried.

Reaching up, he placed a hand on the side of Sam's neck and again felt him tense at the touch which reminded him that he was glad Dean had finally dealt with Walt for what had been done to Sam in the time Dean had been in Purgatory and before John had found Sam again.

"Sammy, you've spent nearly thirty years believing I favored Dean over you. Thinking that you never did anything right because I was always bitching or yelling at you, pushing you harder than I ever seemed to your brother…but that wasn't true," John waited for those same huge eyes to finally find his again and wondering how in the hell Dean ever said no to his little brother when he used the puppy eyes as Dean was fond of calling them.

"…didn't wanna be a hunter," Sam tried to focus on saying what he wanted to but found that he still had a hard time talking to his Dad. "Wanted…to be your son but…I know why you…hated it. Got…Mom killed," he whispered, missing the same flash of dark anger that went through John's eyes and face at those words as he went on. "If you hadn't died…you would've…he said you would've killed me. Dean says you wouldn't. Would you have?"

John took a minute to try to and understand that before chuckling. "Damn. You're no easier to understand when you're hurt now than you were as a kid. Only Dean could make sense of 'Sammy-babble' as he called it," he moved his hand from Sam's neck up to push too long hair out of his eyes while wondering why Dean wasn't bitching about his brother's hair. "Translate that, son? Who said I'd kill you?"

That eventuality had been a fear of John's when he'd been piecing the last pieces together. He'd been terrified of not being able to find a way to save his son because he was more than aware of what Dean's reaction would've been if it had come down to killing Sam.

Of course John had also known that he'd have sooner put the gun to his own head than ever pull the trigger on his boy. In the end, he'd been forced to leave that in Dean's hands but he'd also been more confident in Dean's strength and knew his oldest would fight whoever he needed to rather than lose Sam.

Now from what he'd learned, he wasn't sure which son had suffered more by his inability to finish what had been started that night in Kansas nearly thirty years earlier. Right then though his concentration was on his youngest and not liking what he was hearing.

"Samuel…Mom's Dad since Dean said I didn't have to call him anything else considering what…he did while I…didn't…have a soul," Sam replied, fingers of his left hand moving nervously on the worn knee of his jeans. "He…didn't like you…much."

"At all," John corrected, tensing at the thought that what he'd heard had been true and that Samuel had returned from the dead, that his late father-in-law had done something to the boys. "Samuel didn't approve of me, Sam and I'm not sure why the hell he came back but no…I wouldn't have hurt you.

"Sammy, I'd learned about the demon. I learned what he was trying to do and why but I still had hopes that I or Dean could end it before it got too out of hand," hearing a soft sound from Sam's cellphone as it laid being recharged, John wondered how much longer before it started ringing off the hook but kept his attention on Sam.

Remembering how hard he pushed Sam to train harder, to learn more, to do everything better, John knew with each fight or each shouting match that he was pushing his son farther away from him but had accepted that it needed to be done.

"I didn't know the exact details until about six months before it ended, right before I dropped off the radar and your brother went to get you," John sighed. "I hadn't counted on Dean doing that and Sam, I wish I could say that if he hadn't your girlfriend wouldn't have died but…I think it still would've but…I pushed you harder because I needed you to be able to protect yourself."

Easing the rag aside just to check the bleeding, John looked grim at the amount of blood that had been lost. "Dean picked it up naturally. He knew and accepted being a hunter just like he knew he needed to look out for you. From the first time I realized that too many people were interested in you though…I knew that you needed to be better prepared and…I knew you needed to be away from us.

"Son, I knew how much you hated the moving. Leaving schools, never having friends but after that one time when you were kidnapped by that teacher I couldn't take the chance of losing you so I kept us moving and…I kept pushing you because while Dean was more agreeable at times I knew the best way to drill anything into your head was to make you mad."

John gave a small smile and laughed. "Jim and Bobby always bitched at me for leaving you with your brother and for letting Dean be the one to pretty much raise you but they never understood the main reason I did that," he caught the way Sam's eyes were suddenly shielded behind his lashes and guessed his youngest also hadn't figured out that reason, which he supposed he wasn't surprised at.

"Sam, I know it looked like I didn't care or that all I cared about was hunting but…I did care about you, about both of you, and that's why I let Dean take care of you," he gave a light squeeze on Sam's shoulder and the fact that was no longer tensing was either a relief or a concern, John wasn't certain yet while he tried to explain. "I knew that before the end I'd have to either walk away or I'd be killed trying to protect you boys so I made the choice early on that to keep you safe, to make sure you'd know how to survive, that it'd have to be up to your brother to do those things.

"I taught Dean everything, or most everything, that I knew. I taught him how to hunt, how to protect himself, how to protect you but more importantly I gave him every reason in the world to hate me with how I treated you so that he'd teach you what he knew," John watched as that was digested, guessing it was only how far in shock Sam was that was keeping the response he figured he'd get from Dean from coming. "To protect you, son, I needed to let you go and despite hating it, despite knowing how much it hurt Dean, I had to make you mad enough that night to walk out.

"For four years you had normal, Sam. Four years of what you fought me for and while I wish you could've have that real life you wanted and I hope you still do one day, I need you to understand that nothing you did would have or could have changed what happened."

Sam closed his eyes, tired and in pain but still willing to go along with this image. "Angels wanted you and Mom to meet so you'd have us," he muttered, remembering the bitterness he'd felt for so long at thinking that maybe only Angelic interference had made his parents fall in love. "Said you and Mom fought so much and…"

"Yeah, your Mom had one hell of an attitude," John agreed with a fond smile that always came when thinking of his late wife, feeling Sam trying to grip his hand and let him. "I know people say Dean's attitude came from me but in a lot of ways your brother's attitude and temper also comes from your Mother cause Mary had a righteous temper that I only got to see a few times. We fought when we first met but, Sam? I loved your mother from the first damn second I laid eyes on her and regardless of what anyone told you, we loved each other.

"I didn't know until later about the deal Mary made to save me the night Samuel died. It didn't sink in that the deal had come due the night she died or what it would mean but I don't want you to ever think that either Mary or I regret having you and Dean, because we didn't," he lifted Sam's face up to lock eyes. "I need to get you to the ER, son."

Nodding weakly, Sam knew that he was really hurt and while he still had his doubts if this was real he was willing to let his Dad drive since he didn't want to die…at least not from this. "Can I ask you something?" he asked, coughing and feeling the blood in his mouth.

"You got your Mother's curious side," pulling back onto the road, John looked for a shortcut while nodding. "Go."

"If you…would've known…about the deal…about Mom, would you have still…wanted me?"

Tightening his fingers on the wheel, John blew out a breath. He hadn't counted on that one. "Yes," he replied without a beat, keeping his free hand over Sam's as both a way to apply pressure and to reassure the younger man he wasn't alone. "Sam, even after I learned about it, even after I learned the truth it never changed the fact that you were my son.

"You were the last thing that Mary and I created together and no matter what I've said or how I've acted, you were always my little boy…even when you hit that damn growth spurt and shot past your brother in height," he added, hearing a soft snort. "Next?" he asked since he knew his overly emotional, always questioning child wasn't done yet.

"Did you know if you didn't break in Hell…that they'd target Dean?" Sam had never told Dean that Ruby had told him things since Hell was still a bad subject between them. "They…hurt him, Dad. I got killed and…Dean made a deal but they said he wasn't…as strong as you and broke and…"

"Is that what your brother was told, Sam?" John figured he knew who'd told his oldest that lie and wondered how hard it would be to convince Dean of the truth. "Sam, I do know what happened. I know why Dean made that deal and I also know he doesn't regret it. He'd do anything to save you but…as for the demons not being able to make me break? That's between me and your brother," he smiled at the bitch face that caused. "Son, your brother didn't break the first seal."

Floating now in a space between pain and sleep, Sam's eyes seemed to snap open at that comment. "What?" he tried to ask only to start coughing violently and lost his grip on the now bloody rag as panic shot through him when he couldn't seem to take a breath. "Dad?"

Cursing, John managed to keep one hand tight on the wheel while he reached over to pull Sam closer so he could lean on his shoulder. "Hang on, Sammy," he urged tightly, getting the rag back under Sam's hand and pressing his own back over it while also seeing the blood from Sam's mouth. "What's this about?" he asked even though his knew.

Taking a couple shallow breaths, Sam was soon able to breathe again but didn't move away even though his head was saying he was too old for this. "Found out a way to close Hell," he gave a weak one shouldered shrug. "Dean was gonna do it but I did it and now…we're down to one and…I…have my doubts if I'll make it out like I told Dean I could."

"Huh," John was vowing to blast the next demon or angel he saw for ever touching his sons but knew in a lot of ways from what he'd learned before he died and now since he'd been back that Sam and Dean were just destined for pain and grief.

Of course he also knew that his sons gave as much as they took and so far, much to the dislike of both sides, the Winchesters always seemed to come out on top. John just prayed it was that one more time because he had no doubts of Dean's reaction if anything happened to Sam or vice versa.

"You and Dean will make it out of this, Sam," he replied without saying that he'd find a way to make damn sure of that. "Any more questions or are we good for now?"

Briefly thinking how much like Dean that sounded like, Sam was about to reply when another thought bugged him but wasn't sure how to ask it without seeming weird or childish. "Dad? Two more," he saw his Dad's profile which still looked the same as the last time they'd been in a car together…right before the semi slammed into the Impala.

"If it had been me dying that day, would you have made the deal?" he didn't miss the way John's knuckles went white of the wheel but pressed on with the last thing he needed to know before he passed out fully. "Do you…I mean…are you…ashamed of me for…everything I've done?"

This wasn't the first time someone had asked him that first question since Alastair had loved throwing it in his face about the different ways he seemed to treat his sons and John had a hunch that the last one wasn't the real question Sam had wanted to ask but since he'd been raised to not bring up emotional stuff he'd backed off to a safer one.

Even before joining the Marines, John's life had made him more reluctant to show open emotion. After losing Mary, he'd shut his down again and hadn't allowed himself to show his sons the love they'd deserved or needed.

He'd known that between them, Sam was more like Mary and was more open with his unlike Dean who'd learned early on how to shield himself to avoid being hurt…much like John had been.

Breaking old habits was hard but since he realized this might be his one and only meeting with his son, then he at least could answer him honestly. No matter how much it hurt.

"Yes, I would've," John replied slowly, relief at seeing the signs for the hospital up ahead. "I taught both of you boys about dealing with demons but for either of you I would've made the same damn deal and no, I'm not ashamed of you, son," he glanced over to see a small smile flitting on Sam's face then heard him groan before his body finally gave in to the pain and he went limp as unconsciousness claimed him.

Thinking back to when Sam was born, how innocent he seemed, John ached for the loss of his son's childhood and his innocence as he moved a his hand up to card it back through sweat soaked hair with a shaky smile on his grizzled face while adding in a low whisper. "I love you, Sammy."

Pulling up to the ER, the now fully charged phone that John had plugged in began to shrill and vibrate which broke the somber mood in the car while he began thinking of an excuse for the staff and debated on answering the phone.

A look at Sam gave him the answer to the second as he exited the car with the phone in hand while two interns came toward the car, moving quicker once they took a look inside.

"He's…been stabbed and is losing blood," John told them, guessing he'd work on the exact story once Sam was stable or he'd gotten his brother here to handle it.

Catching the blindly reaching hand since he knew Sam would move as soon as he was touched, John held onto his son's hand much like he'd seen Dean do when Sam was younger and hurt while flipping the phone open and smiled at the sharp, highly annoyed voice he heard on the other end.

"Damn it, Sammy. If you don't pick up this time I'm so grounding your ass when I…"

"Hey, Dean," John spoke lowly, hearing the voice of his oldest choke off and went on before the growling could start. "Your brother's hurt so GPS his phone and get your damn ass over here cause I'm not real impressed with how you're watching after Sammy."

Clicking the phone shut, John closed his eyes to take a deep breath before going inside the hospital to check on Sam and begin to give details while also preparing himself for the one meeting he knew would not go well.

**TBC**

**A/NII: **_I'll update soon with Dean's reaction to this._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Meeting**

**Chapter Two**

"'_Damn it, Sammy. If you don't pick up this time I'm so grounding your ass when I…'"_

"'_Hey, Dean, your brother's hurt so GPS his phone and get your damn ass over here cause I'm not real impressed with how you're watching after Sammy.'"_

Temper sizzling, heart doing jumping jacks from his chest to his throat while his fingers gripped the wheel of the 1967 black Chevy Impala that was his pride and joy, Dean Winchester was furious.

He was also terrified and those two emotions bubbling inside him mixed with everything else as of late made a dangerous combination.

One that no one with a brain would be eager to encounter so he was just wishing the smartass who'd answered his brother's phone, the smartass who sounded way too much like his Dad for Dean's comfort, would still be within reach when Dean got to the hospital where he was told to 'get his damn ass'.

"Oh, I'll get my ass over there," he gritted from between clenched teeth, jerking the wheel hard out of the library parking lot while trying to see the GPS on his phone after he'd cued up the one in his Sam's to see where the hell he was going.

For Dean it seemed like from the moment they learned about a way to shut the doors of Hell for good that his life was going to hell in a hand basket.

He'd planned on killing the hellhound and therefore starting the trials himself. He wanted his little brother as far away from that mess as possible and he thought he'd made that point and reasoning perfectly clear to Sam but did his big hearted, geeky, hard headed little brother listen to him? Noooo, of course not and that's how Dean found himself in this mess.

Of course he knew that Sam's basic response to seeing or hearing Dean about to become a chew toy for a damn hound form hell…again would be instinctive and that's what it had been.

Sam had jumped to protect his brother, killing the mutt and thereby taking on the trials since no matter how much Dean complained and bitched his baby brother just turned those damn huge puppy dog eyes on him with the speech of making it to the other end of the tunnel and just to trust him and Dean knew he'd lost the battle of wills.

Now after the second trial was done, it didn't take a genius to see that Sam was in a lot worse shape. He'd even stopped hiding it too much even though Dean wasn't stupid enough to think that his brother was fully opening up yet about how bad he felt…not yet but Dean planned on fixing that or he had until he got this news dropped on him.

Dean had picked this case because he'd figured it would be a simple one. Sam could do the research while he checked in with the cops and then he'd park his brother in the motel to sleep, which he'd noticed Sam doing more of, while he headed out to the old road to deal with whatever the hell it was making people vanish.

One the one hand, the hunter supposed he should've expected this day to get worse. It had started with Sam pitching a fit about being relegated to library duty which he argued he could do _after_ seeing the police but that did not work with Dean's plan so after some major bitch facing and near pouting he'd dropped his brother off with orders to call him if he found out anything or if he needed him.

"The phrase _call me_ clearly did not sink in with his kid," he grumbled, not even paying attention to the blaring rock music he'd turned on to distract himself since his brain kept going back to the next set-back he'd encountered.

Keeping his worried thoughts off his sick and getting sick little brother was hard as Dean donned his best fake FBI suit to play a visit to the local police only to be met with confusion and amusement.

Covering his temper spike, Dean deadpanned and made excuses for office snafus when told another FBI agent had already dropped by the night before with news that the out of state serial killer (hunter-speak for either vampire or some other monster of that type) had been dealt with and would no longer be an issue.

Knowing that he and Sam weren't the only hunters still out in the world, though it seemed like it at times, Dean had took that frustration out on the only hunter he could think of and had called to bitch at Garth since the skinny nerdy looking hunter was supposed to be out looking for their equally geeky Prophet of the Lord, Kevin Tran.

"'_Uh, hate to break this to you, Dean, but I'm up in Washington state looking into Bigfoot,_'" Garth had replied, not at all phased by Dean's rant since he'd been with the older Winchester a few other times and had seen his temper up close and personal. "'_Whoever's treading on your case isn't me though I have been picking up hits here and there about someone asking around about you and Sam._'"

So now Dean knew he needed to apologize to Garth for jumping down his throat and find the asshole who was asking about them since whenever anyone, especially another hunter, started asking too many questions that brought out an entirely different side of Dean.

One that people who saw it usually didn't walk away from and that was before he started trying to call Sam only to get nothing by voicemail. Then he got to the library and felt his stomach flip and his temper soar.

Spinning into the parking lot with plans to pick Sam up, complain to him, grab some food, get some sleep before heading back to Kansas whenever Sam woke up, the last thing Dean expected to find were cop cars, a bloodied guy who looked like trouble and made Dean's '_touch my brother and I will kill you slowly'_ radar begin to buzz.

A quick word with one of the uniforms that Dean had already spoken to earlier didn't make him happy. Learning that the thug along with four friends had jumped a guy as he was leaving the library really didn't make him happy but it was what the woman who'd called the police reported to Dean that succeeded in pissing him off.

"'_They cut that boy and were really beating him up until this other man showed up_,'" she told to Dean, shaking her head while wringing her hands. "'_I wanted to call the ambulance too but the other man said he'd take care of the boy but if anyone showed up looking for him…_'" she seemed to eye Dean's suit before sliding a look toward the Impala with a nod. "'_Guess he had you down pat. Said if a man with an attitude in a cheap suit and driving an old Impala were to show up to tell him that he was supposed to watch out for his brother_.'"

Fighting not to snarl while also fighting not to panic at not knowing what the hell had happened to Sam, how bad he was hurt or who the hell had taken him to who knows where, Dean's first instinct was to put the barrel of his Colt in the face of the groaning and bitching thug and show him what so many others had already learned: you screw with Dean's little brother it doesn't end well for you.

A deep inner restraint and not wanting to deal with the red tape from the cops if he did that, Dean had been sitting in the Impala speed dialing Sam's phone for over twenty five minutes though it seemed like a lifetime to him and only getting his brother's voicemail.

"Damn it, Sam! Pick up!" fighting the dull edge of panic like he'd only felt a few times in his life, hell thinking of Sam being trapped in Purgatory, hadn't even been this bad on him, Dean was about to forget his restraint and go postal on the thug to find out just what the hell he'd done to Sam or who'd stepped in when he finally heard the best sound all day: his brother's phone picking up…and that was when the night finally fell apart for him.

"'_Hey, Dean, your brother's hurt so GPS his phone and get your damn ass over here cause I'm not real impressed with how you're watching after Sammy.'"_

Even though it had been nearly eight years since he'd last heard it, Dean would still recognize his father's voice and went through a range of emotions at hearing what sounded like John's voice on the other end of the phone before it clicked off.

Being hung up on was one issue but hung up on by what sounded like his dead father was completely different and Dean wanted answers and he wanted blood.

Answers to how bad his little brother was hurt and how he was and then he wanted blood from the asshole who sounded way too much like John for comfort.

Dean's temper was still sparking dangerously when he pulled the Impala into the parking lot and fought not to run into the hospital but he was well aware of how easy it would be to get tossed out by security if he didn't calm down.

Taking the time to count to at least fifty, Dean figured he was still giving off waves of angst and bad karma but at least he thought he could speak without snarling as he found the main desk in the ER which he assumed would be a good place to start looking for his brother.

"Hi, can I help…" the matronly looking head nurse who was working the evening shift looked up for the chart she was filling out to eye Dean carefully before pursing her lips. "You're probably the boy looking for Sam Winchester, aren't you?" she was confident of that even before Dean blinked at her then offered a scowl that normally put people off but she just continued to watch him. "You're his brother?"

"What? Am I wearing a sign tonight?" he demanded, offering a sigh at the mild look of reproach he was given that reminded him of the warning looks Bobby Singer would give right before he'd give a swift slap to the head. "Yes, I'm Sam's brother. I got a…call that he was brought in here. Where is he, how is he, can I see him, and where's the son of…where's the guy who brought him in?"

Only a sharper look made him pull back from using the phrase he wanted to though right then Dean discovered he wanted to see Sam more than anything else.

"Your brother was brought in with multiple bruises, a bump on his head and a serious cut to his side," she began after checking a chart before gazing back up at Dean. "He lost a lot of blood and by the time we got him he was in bad shape. He's back in one of the rooms now getting stitched up and also receiving a couple pints of blood. The doctor wants to run a CT to make sure he doesn't have a concussion since he seemed really out of it."

Dean knew Sam had been seeming more shaky and confused lately so that didn't bother him as much as the rest of it. "Can…can I see him?" he asked, straining to calm down as he tried to explain. "Sam's…been sick recently and we're just…passing through. He's also leery of hospitals and doctors so…"

"Oh, he's taken a few swings before he finally passed out and the pain killers took effect," the nurse seemed amused by this. "That boy could probably be dangerous of he was steady on his feet but his…your Dad seemed to calm him down by telling him that you were coming."

Blood rushed to his head as Dean's searching eyes shot back to the nurse as his jaw muscle twitched. "My…Dad?" he stared at her while hoping she hadn't noticed the way his hands had suddenly clenched into fists. "Is he…with Sam?"

"No, the doctor said that you'll need to wait to see him until he's a bit more stable," seeming to understand Dean's concern, she stood up to lay a comforting hand on the one that was still fisted on the desk. "He's getting the best care and I'll get you as soon as you can see him."

Not liking that he couldn't see Sam right away, Dean realized this was one head nurse he wouldn't be able to get past and so chose to bide him time in another way…getting answers. "Okay, I'd appreciate that," he nodded with a tight smile while looking around as if searching. "Where is my…Dad?" he asked, nearly having to grit his teeth to get that last word out.

"Oh, he stepped outside after your brother calmed down," she pointed out the door. "He said he didn't care much for hospitals and to just call him if Sam needed him or when you got here, though he seemed to be pretty certain that he'd know as soon as you showed up."

"Oh, I bet he did," Dean forced a smiled then turned to stalk out the doors. The cool night air was clear but he wasn't paying attention to that as he stepped outside to allow his darkening eyes to look around.

A hunter since before he was a teenager, Dean knew his senses were trained to pick up anything out of place. Growing up with the firm instinct to protect his brother, he'd learned early on how to feel if anything was out of place in their environment or to pick up if anyone was too close to them that shouldn't be.

Dean admitted that his concern for Sam might have dulled a few of those senses but now that he was angry and suspicious those were back in full force and his eyes looked around the hospital parking lot as if he was spotting a deadly foe and in that case, he wasn't certain if he wasn't.

Feeling eyes on him Dean knew the second he'd been spotted and just slowly turned on his heel to stare into the darkness towards a line of trees where some benches seemed to sit and despite the deep shadows he still was able to pick out the silhouette of a man standing there.

"_Sonuvabitch_," he hissed, recognizing the shadowy silhouette as easily as he had the voice on the phone and debated on if his head would explode before he could pull a gun or his knife and put this demon/angel asshole out of his misery. "No."

Not liking hospitals as a general rule and especially not liking them when one of his sons had to be taken to one, John had stayed until Sam was calm again and had finally slipped under fully thanks to the drugs the doctors gave him for the pain and then he'd stepped outside to think, ponder and wait for the inevitable: Dean's arrival.

John had not been planning on seeing either son face to face or at least not until he had a better way to explain why he was alive.

Stepping in to save Sam had not been in question from the moment he'd seen his son go down and while he accepted that he could've walked away after delivering Sam to the ER that part of him that never liked to leave a job unfinished wouldn't let him.

He might not have been the greatest father while the boys were growing up but this time he felt like he needed to stay until he knew how Sam was…even if it meant confronting Dean and John had no doubts had that would go.

Dean had grown up fast and he'd grown up hard. John had lost the sense of that in his obsession to find what had killed his wife and he'd taken that out on the boys but while Sam had lost the chance for normal it was in a lot of ways Dean who suffered the most.

His eldest had been taking care of his infant brother when most toddlers were in school or playing. Dean had grown up taking care of not only Sam but also John when he came in busted up from a hunt. He'd been learning how to use a weapon before he was eight and from the first moment Dean had raised a gun to use it John knew his son's life had never and would never be the same.

As John waited in the shadows that he'd grown accustomed to these past months he thought back to Dean's life. From the happy laughing little boy he'd been up until the night his mother died in flames on the ceiling of Sam's nursery to the quiet soft spoken boy he became afterward.

Perhaps taking the boys with him on hunts hadn't been a wise move but after his meeting with Mary's uncle and the events afterward John's choices were solid. Too many people were interested in his boys and he'd do what he needed to in order to shield and protect them both, even if it meant taking away a small boy's childhood.

Dean had never complained, he never bitched or moaned…to much about what he'd given up for 'the family business'. Only twice could John recall his oldest son ever throwing it in his face about what he'd given up or lost because of John's obsessive desire to keep his sons with him.

Of course both of those times Dean had been either drunk or shot up with pain killers after he'd been hurt and also they happened after John and Sam had a fight and Dean's loyalties between father and brother were stretched beyond their limits.

Unlike what Bobby and Jim thought, John was aware of what Dean gave up to make certain Sam could get the grades in school that he did. He knew that Dean dropped out of school rather than flunk out like he tried to say he did.

John was also aware that Dean had done other things to protect himself and Sam that John didn't know the full story of but mostly he knew that for Dean it wasn't considered sacrificing if it was for Sam.

Oh, he knew his son had grown up with more than his share of an attitude but a lot of that was also due to how Dean grew up, or how John taught him to be.

The cocky attitude, the self-confidence that bordered on sheer arrogance in the face of danger and the ability to mouth off at the worst possible moments all came from growing up a scared little boy with the need to protect his baby brother.

As John watched toward the end, before Sam left for college and during those last few days he'd been with the boys before the semi crash, he'd seen that Dean's attitude hadn't diminished. It had in fact gotten worse, but especially when he was trying to deflect crap from Sam.

Since he'd been watching over them again, John hadn't missed Dean's attitude or actions. He'd seen the tension between the boys right after Dean's return from Purgatory. He'd seen the pain in Sam when it looked like his brother was turning away again and there were moments that John had to remind himself to step back or else he would've gone and slapped his eldest right in the head for some of the stunts he pulled.

Since the trials had started he was relieved to see the side of Dean that he'd hoped that the recent traumas and pain hadn't erased, the big brother side that would take care of Sam no matter what.

It was that side that John knew he'd be facing. Since his return, between what he woke up knowing and from what little he'd been able to learn from others he suspected that both boys were still hiding things from each other but John's rule of no emotion had been drilled into Dean and it was usually only his brother who could make him drop that rule.

Hearing the familiar roar of the Impala actually made John wipe his suddenly damp palms on the sides of his jeans as he watched from the shadows as the car he'd bought back in 1973 was whipped into the lot, parked and the driver emerged in full silent fury.

'Yeah, he's pissed,' John thought, recognizing the signs of anger and fear in his son as ones he'd seen many times when the boys were growing up and Sam was hurt which would scare his brother but he figured the anger had come from not knowing what happened and from his phone call.

Counting down in his head how long it should take Dean to get answers about Sam, John smiled knowingly when he saw his son exit the hospital with a look that warned him that this meeting was not going to be as peaceful as the one he'd just had with Sam…though John knew if Sam had been healthy that one probably wouldn't have been good either.

Taking a deep shaky breath, John took a step as soon as the lot lights shined on Dean's face and it was clear that the hunter senses that he'd instilled in his boy had spotted him.

Before John had no doubts that he could handle his son's temper but now he wasn't so certain and just hoped he could get the stubborn boy to hear him out without having to hurt him since he was only too aware of the fact that Mary would find a way to break his head if he laid a hand on Dean.

"I'm surprised she hasn't already," he muttered, realizing there'd been plenty of times in the boys lives that John knew he'd been too rough or had taken his anger or frustration out of his sons.

That was something else he'd just learned the cause of as well and hoped Dean didn't want too many answers on things that would just end up hurting the boys more.

"Dean, hear me out before you…ugh!" a fast and hard fist to the jaw sent John's head snapping back with a curse. "Damn it, Dean. Listen for once and…ugh!"

Another hard fist to the face knocked John back a good two steps before a fist was curled in his jacket as if yank him up for another round only the senior Winchester had different ideas.

"Demons and angels have been screwing with me and Sammy for a long time and they've made us both see a lotta crap but I will be _damned_ if they'll make my little brother see Dad when he's already hurting!" Dean snapped, anger clear in the tightness of his voice when he went to grab the jacket of this thing that looked so much like his Dad that the hunter could feel a pain in his chest like he hadn't felt since his Dad died. "Not so long as I'm…_Sonuvabitch_!"

Dean had fought many a demon and angel grunt since his return from Hell and while they were usually stronger he'd learned how to be sneaky. Also a full face on attack usually took this by surprise until he could pull the angel killing blade he still had.

This time when he went to yank this asshole back to his feet after two fists to the face had knocked him back he felt a strong calloused hand grip his wrist, twist it while an open hand shot out to strike Dean in the chest right over his heart, taking his breath away.

Feeling the fist in his jacket loosen, John moved quickly to yank the arm of his son behind him while turning Dean sharply so he could lightly rap his forehead into the roof the Corolla then kept him pinned while showing the demon killing knife he'd pulled from under Dean's jacket.

"Stay still, stop fighting and listen to me," he ordered in the same deep, gruff voice he normally used on Dean when needing to make him listen.

Pissed off about Sam being jumped, angry about what seemed to be happening, Dean did not take the order kindly and tried to fight only to feel the pressure on his trapped arm increase until he had to grit his teeth. "Get…off," he hissed, hating to be pinned but especially hating to be pinned by what he still thought was a demon as it brought back his own bitter memories of Hell. "Stupid demon…my Dad's…hey!"

Cuffing the back of his son's head much like he would when he'd been a teenager, John shook his head for a moment but kept his grip tight because he knew if he let go now that Dean's first move would be to attack and he didn't want that.

"Since when is your brother the easier to get along with son?" he asked dryly, grabbing Dean's free hand before it could reach back to grab for his eyes and pinned it to the top of the car.

Once fully trapped against the Corolla he felt his son tense and supposed that like Sam's reaction to a similar situation John shouldn't be surprised. It just didn't make him pleased as he waited for the most of the fight to ease off until slowly Dean stopped trying to break his hold and finally stilled with a harsh oath.

"You ready to listen to me now?" John inquired, cautious when he moved back that he was clear before Dean could spin around and just easily pushed him back. "Dean! Do I look like a demon to you?"

"Uh, since my Dad's been died and burned for almost eight years? Yeah!" came the sharp reply but Dean stayed with his back to the Corolla, his eyes near slits as he watched the man who looked and sounded like his father bitterly. "Crowley, that bitch Naomi all want to screw with us and that's fine…for me! Not Sam! He still feels way too much shit from his time with Dad, he still misses him and still believes all the crap from when we were kids and no black eyed demon's gonna hurt him like this!"

A little surprised by the raw emotion in Dean's speech, John had to take another step back while considering the best way to handle this.

He'd known that Dean would be the harder of the two to convince since he'd always been the more wary and suspicious of his sons but he hadn't been expecting this. He hadn't seen this much pain or confusion in this set of green eyes in years, not since the night he and Sam had the fight that resulted in Sam leaving for Stanford.

Realizing the best way to make Dean listen would be first to take away all the excuses, which would mean John facing a few things that he didn't think he'd like.

"Fine, you think I'm a demon? Then use the knife in your pocket or the holy water I'm sure is in your jacket," John invited, gazing at the knife he'd taken from his son and knew what it was but turned it so he was holding it by the tip with the handle held out. "I'm not a demon, a 'shifter, an angel or anything looking to hurt you or your brother, Dean," he honestly chuckled as he added dryly. "I don't have enough answers to why I'm alive either but I can at least try to make you believe I'm who I seem to be."

"I burned the damn body," Dean gritted, hesitating before reaching out to take back the demon killing blade but finally made himself meet the opposite set of eyes and hoped the dark hid how much his hands suddenly wanted to shake. "You're too damn solid to be a ghost so whatever the hell game this is I will kick your ass as soon as I figure out what you are or if you touched my brother."

"Still threatening to rip the lungs out of people who hurt Sammy?" John nodded, not shocked by this since he'd broken up more than a few bar fights, bailed his oldest out of jail or the principal's office for fights Dean had gotten into while defending or protecting his brother. "He's still four inches taller than you, Dean."

"Don't call him that," eyes already glittering in anger, the use of Sam's nickname threatened to set Dean off again while he finally decided to throw caution to the wind and pulled the silver switchblade that both he and Sam carried that had been gifts from their father. "I will gut you the second you hiss, burn, or anything else weird."

Frowning a little, John shook his head but pushed his jacket sleeve up while holding out an arm. "Y'know, I never realized how much like me you could sound until now and I don't think I like it, son," he winced as the pure silver blade cut and didn't miss the nearly identical frown that came over Dean's face when nothing happened. "Holy water?"

After drinking and swallowing Holy Water from the flask Dean did have in an inside jacket pocket of his suit, walking through an impromptuly drawn devil's trap, not going poof at an angel vanishing sigil and finally drawing the line at being stuck with a knife coated in lambs blood, John gave the now pacing and muttering hunter a hard look.

"You done with this and maybe be willing to listen to me or do I have to knock you on your ass and beat it into your head like I had to when you were eighteen and had your damn brain scrambled by that cult up in Massachusetts?" he demanded, willing to go along with his son only to a point and now realized Dean had picked up way too many bad habits and suspicions in the years he'd been gone.

"It's not freakin' possible," Dean kept muttering, going through his head of possible creatures that he hadn't thought of or a way either the angels or the demons could have pulled this off when he suddenly pulled up short to turn back around with a wary look on his ruggedly tired face. "What…what did you just say?"

The drop on his son's voice from deep and rough which was Dean's pissed off tone toward a possible threat to the more quiet almost questioning one told John that he'd finally made a dent even though he wished it wouldn't have been with that time in Dean's life.

"You were eighteen going on twenty-five by your attitude that week. We were up in a town a little north of Salem on a case of some kind and you got your head and your glands mixed up by a pretty face…then your head got turned around by the goddamn cult she lured you into and Jim, Bobby, and I spent the next week or so bringing you out of it," while trying to keep his voice gruff and easy as if it was just another memory John's real memory of that time were not so easy or as calm.

He remembered all too well the two weeks it took to break Dean free of the drugs he'd been hit with on top of the cult leader's mental job. Of course what still could make John break out in a sweat was the fact that it hadn't been anything he and the others really did to break through to his very dangerous, very confused teenage son but the huge eyes of Dean's little brother when Sam got in the way of Dean's attempt at escape and soon had a knife blade at his throat.

It had been Sam's terrified eyes looking up at his brother and asking him to please be alright soon that had finally gotten through to Dean enough that he'd backed off and John could get between the boys but John honestly wasn't sure if Dean even remembered that.

"Jim and Bobby are gone to ask them what a ray of sunshine you were then but when Sam wakes up you could ask him or…" John lifted a single eyebrow when Dean was suddenly in his face but this time his face didn't show anger, it held the same look of tense caution as it always did when he didn't want his brother to know something.

"That never comes up with Sam," he whispered, refusing the memory and refusing to ever bring it back to his younger brother in case Sam did remember the full event because despite what everyone thinks Dean sure as hell remembered it all. "How do you…"

Dean stared hard at the waiting face, taking in every feature that hadn't seem to have aged a day since the last time he'd seen his father in a hospital before he made the deal that started a chain of events that to this moment was still falling like dominoes. "Dad."

"Well, that took longer than I thought it…ugh!" John's head snapped back when once again a hard fist cracked into his jaw but this time Dean didn't make another move to attack though he still also wasn't looking very friendly. "Damn it, Dean! What the hell was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his jaw carefully while wondering if he'd make it out of this without a broken jaw.

"Gee, I don't know, _Dad_. You tell _me_," Dean's eyes rolled while he debated on what would come next. He still had doubts if this was real or a trick but since he couldn't find a way to break the image in any way he figured he may as well deal with in his own unique style.

Anger and sarcasm suited him best and this situation seemed to call for both.

"We can start with why you're standing here and not a pile of ash back in South Dakota. We can go on to the fact that you made Sam's life miserable growing up for no other reason than your own obsessive, selfish reasons and it's still hurting him. Or we can try the fact that _you_ made a deal and _died_, leaving _me_ to handle all the crap that _you_ didn't bother to tell me about on top of trying to save my little brother.

"Then we move onto the fact that you knew or had to know about the demon blood, about why Yellow Eyes was so interested in Sammy and that it be a cold day in Hell before I let my brother die!" resisting the urge to use both fists as he suddenly discovered that he had no problem saying what his issue was, Dean slid both hands into the pockets of his slacks while moving away to continue the rant.

"You went to Hell for me but you knew I'd never let Sam die. You knew I'd make a deal for him! Alastair was only too happy to tell me how weak I was. How they'd planned on you being the one to break the first seal but yet he couldn't do it. He couldn't break you no matter how long you were down there but he managed to break me in three months…thirty years,

"Sam listened to you yell and lecture that he was weak, that he'd never be good enough but when it came down to it? I broke, Dad. I…couldn't hack it, couldn't deal with it and I gave in to the damn bastard and broke the first seal that ended up hurting Sam more," unaware of how he'd started to shake as images of Hell came back, the years he'd put up with the brutal torture and abuse and what he did and had done to him after he'd given in still haunted Dean.

Needing space to pace, to move, to keep his body and mind distracted at facing his Dad also meant facing crap that he didn't want to.

Ever since he'd been forced to confront Alastair on behalf of the Angel patrol and the torture master of Hell had bragged to Dean that it had been his weakness that had caused the first seal to break it had bothered Dean just how much his Dad had known and if he'd known what would come out of it.

"You didn't give a damn about us. We were just your own soldiers in a war that never concerned us!" he yelled, whirling to close the distance between them only to find his father standing right behind him with a dark look simmering that Dean remembered only too well. "Go ahead. I've been hurt by the best of them, Dad. Your best fist won't phase me anymore.

"Between Hell and what happened to me there and what I did, watching my brother fall apart thanks to some demon bitch and all the doubts and mistrust between us, to losing Sam to a Cage with warring Archangels. To his being a soulless son of a bitch and getting me turned into a vampire to watching him nearly lose his mine to being stuck in Purgatory for a year…yeah, nothing you can say or do will hurt me now," Dean growled, too many memories rushing back all at once and he went to step back before he did something he'd never forgive himself for since he'd never shed an open tear in front of John before and didn't plan to now.

John had stayed silent while his older boy got the most of his feelings out, listening to what Dean was saying but also what he wasn't since whatever had brought him back had also given him a detailed version of the things that both of his sons had done and been through so he knew there was so much more that Dean hadn't tossed out.

He also figured the biggest part of those were things Dean wouldn't say because he didn't want Sam hurt more by bringing up the demon blood addiction, the bitter fights, the attempts to save the world that while helping it just hurt his boys. He knew Dean wouldn't bring that up but right then his main thought was on something else.

Dean's time in Hell had also been brought up by Sam and John wasn't surprised that his sons believed what they did since neither demon nor angel were likely to tell the truth when they were working to break the boys apart in order to create the damn Apocalypse.

Not thrilled at recalling his own one hundred years in Alastair's chamber of horrors, John realized his discomfort wasn't important anymore. What his elder son thought; the guilt and pain of being weak and failing that Dean still harbored was important to him.

"Dean," aware that touching his son now could very well end up with a fist to the face again John took the chance when he laid a hand on the closest shoulder and tightened the grip when he felt how much it was trembling. "Stop."

"You don't get it, Dad. You told me to watch over Sammy. I've done that all his life. I tried to protect him but by saving him, I doomed him because by leaving him alone they were able to hurt him. I hurt him," Dean still knew this because he knew it was his lack of faith in Sam before Lucifer was set free and then afterward that had allowed everything else to happen.

"He just wanted to make you proud. He wanted to someone you'd love and in the end I'm the one who destroyed what you hadn't because I let him think he wasn't good enough to be my brother and when I tossed the amulet…I still can see his eyes that day," looking over his shoulder into the solemn eyes of his father, Dean's smile was grim. "You left me to handle it but I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't the son you thought I'd be, I guess and…"

Having heard enough, John's gut was in knots. In the past two hours he'd listened to both his sons and while he'd known that he wasn't parent of the year and that he'd left them both to clean up a mess that he should've while he'd been able the amount of pain, grief, doubt and self-hate that his boys still held tore him apart and made him wish that he could take it back. All he could do know was try to reassure and explain.

"Dean, I told Sam that I'd only found out the full truth shortly before all that happened and by then it was too late to do much but pray," John began, seeing the side of Dean that he'd gotten from Mary; the softer, more vulnerable side that his boy hardly ever let be seen, especially these days.

"When you got hurt I knew Sam would need you. Losing you, on top of losing his girlfriend would've been too much on your brother. He needed you because I had let go of Sam too long ago for him to trust me or rely on me like he does you," needing to make certain he was getting through, John nudged until Dean sat down at one of the benches nearby and straddled the bench beside him.

Noticing that Dean's fingers were playing with the black band he'd taken to wearing again, John remembered something he'd had upon waking up and knew who it needed to go to before he left his boys again. "I know what I told you that day and it was wrong of me to lay that burden on you, son. Protecting you boys was what I've tried to do since the night your mother died.

"I figure Sam won't even remember talking to me so this is the part of that you need to understand because it goes with what I'm going to tell you," looking between the hospital and Dean, John considered this before sighing. "While I didn't know the full extent of it, I was aware that too many people wanted Sam and you. The first time that was driven home was when I met Mary's uncle and things went downhill from there but then I guess from what Sam said you've already encountered the Campbells."

"Please, can we not go there?" Dean snorted, not needing to be reminded that he still had scores to settle with that branch of his Mom's family. "I much rather think of your father than Samuel and the Soup Kids."

John caught that but ignored it for the moment since he'd trained himself since he'd been a boy not to think of his own father and wanted to focus on his son. "Dean, I know what it looked like to you growing up and I know that I put a lot of pressure on you but I needed you to be able to protect yourself and Sam for when I wasn't there.

"I needed Sam to depend on someone, to be close to someone he could trust and that's why I let you be the one your brother turned to. The one he went to when scared, the one who raised him, the one who taught him what he'd need to know and the one I knew would always be there for him," he didn't miss the look of surprise in Dean's eyes but was relieved when slowly his son begun to relax and he was confident that he'd be able to talk to him now with at least very few interruptions.

"I was hard on you and yeah, I was harder on Sammy but every time I pushed you boys it was to make you better, to make you stronger, to make you able to depend on one another," he paused as another thought came to mind and he knew it was also in Dean's by the way he'd gotten that smart ass smirk on his lips. "I won't say that I was a great father, Dean and I know there were times you hated me. That there were times when you probably could've killed me for things I did to Sam or to you and I wish I could remember all those, but it was only when I went to Hell and since I came back that those times became clear to me."

Wondering how he could possibly explain that he didn't have clear memory of the times he took his punishments too far or when he'd push Sam's training routines far past the boy's endurance or the time that Sam had run away that he beat Dean.

He honestly didn't know how to tell Dean that for John those times had been like shadows in his mind of someone else and only now did he remember them. Only now did he have a suspicion as to what had affected his mind so many times back as they were growing up.

Choosing to hold off on a full explanation until he had more answers and solid proof, he shook his head. "I could give you what I think happened but all I need you to know about that is…if I'd been in full control I would never have laid a hand on either of you.

"The training would've been hard and I probably still would've pushed you but I never would've pushed until Sam was sick or until you'd get in my face to back away from him. You were my sons and I loved you but…"

"Okay, you are not my Dad," Dean broke in with a smirk, listening and actually considering the words but couldn't resist commenting on that admission. "My Dad hasn't said the 'L' word since Sam was probably six months old…before the fire."

Sticking his tongue in his cheek to keep from commenting right then, John did give a look that made his oldest boy shrug. "Yes, I have said it. I've actually said it to both of you," he retorted then sighed. "Usually when you were asleep or hurt…just like you still say it to Sam. When you're damn sure he won't hear it or when he breaks you down with those damn eyes that _you_ taught him to use."

"Shut up, Dad," Dean muttered, refusing to either admit or deny that but finally settled back on the bench to watch John closely. "Fine, let's say I buy that something or someone was playing in your head or whatever it was, it doesn't change the pain Sam felt or how useless he still thinks he is and that you didn't give a damn about him."

"No, it doesn't and I hope he'll remember something of what I said to him but that brings me to you," John had so much that he wanted to say, to try to explain but knew he needed to pick and choose his battles and that there were more important issues to clear up. "I put too much pressure on you which was wrong but I knew you'd be stronger than I would if it came down to saving your brother or losing him to that damn demon. You were always strong, Dean."

Nearly choking at that, Dean's eyes shot up with a look of pure self-disgust. "_Hel-lo_? Gave up in Hell? Broke the first seal? Couldn't protect Sam from addictions, demons, losing his soul, nearly going mad or thinking I hated him? That's not strong, Dad," he argued with a bitter laugh. "If I'd been as strong as you wanted me to be, I could've found a way to save Sam from everything he's been through."

"Damn, you are way too much like me than I ever thought you'd become," John shook his head, tightening the grip he still had on Dean's shoulder when he felt it tense. "You think you have to hold the weight of the whole world on your shoulders and that's never what I wanted for you."

"You wanted soldiers and despite me telling Sam that all I am is a damn grunt it still feels as if I've failed," Dean stared at the black rubbery band on his wrist then back at his Dad with true pain in his eyes. "You shouldn't have died. Maybe if you hadn't…Sam would've…"

"Your brother would've bolted and fell apart without you, son," John broke in, hating to see this and wishing he could make it right in some other way than with just a few words. "Yes, Sam did some things that maybe weren't so bright but he did what he thought was right, just like you did. You protected him from falling all the way and you couldn't keep what happened with Lucifer because…those events had been set in motion long before you made the deal."

Recognizing Dean's look that he was winding up for an argument, John decided it was time to stop it since he knew what this would always come back to and had other things to talk with Dean about. "Dean, you didn't break the seal," he heard the sharp breath but forged on quickly.

"Regardless of what you were told by Alastair or the angels that seal was broke before you saved your brother. It took the bastard nearly the full one hundred years but all it finally took to break me was him bragging that you'd sold your soul to save Sam and I knew that you had no real idea what you boys were being led into.

"You see, that was the big thing, son. I learned too late that you and Dean had been chosen to be vessels even before Mary and I met," John didn't miss the way Dean's green eyes dropped as if he was remembering something and then recalled what Sam had mentioned. "Hey," reaching over, he grasped his son's chin to lift it up in order to reestablish eye contact. "Your Mom and I loved each other, Dean. We fought but no matter what anyone says we never doubted that love or the two sons that it brought into the world.

"I broke but it didn't matter because while they needed the seal broke they also needed to break you in order to try to make you give in. They needed to take you apart like they need because the bastards needed you to think so less of yourself than what there really is," John sighed as he could still see in his son what no one, either Hell or Heaven, would ever understand and what he hoped that he could make Dean see.

"They needed to hurt you, to break you in order to make you doubt yourself and Sam cause it's your strength that ultimately protects your brother. You might think that Alastair broke you and he did hurt you in ways that no one else would ever get but he never broke what makes you the man who raised and protected Sam,

"No one can break your spirit or your strength that keeps you fighting," John offered a smirk much similar to the one his son often uses. "You could've given in to Zachariah, you could've said yes to Michael, you could've forgot about Sam during that time he was gone or you could've given up on him anytime he was soulless or any number of times…you could've walked away but you didn't. Why?"

Blinking like he'd just been asked the most stupidest question in the universe, Dean snorted with an eye roll that he often bitched at Sam for using. "Why? I didn't say yes because I wasn't letting those dicks rule my or Sammy's lives. I didn't say yes because I'd be damned if Lucifer was riding my little brother or if I'd let Michael use my body to hurt Sam."

To this very day Dean could recall the look of rage then shock then horror on Zachariah's face when pulled back his agreement. "Sam and I might've been through hell over that and I admit that I let those sons of bitches push and pull until I did lose faith in him for a moment but I never quit or walked away or gave up on him because…because he's Sammy and no one screws with my little brother. Then, now, or down the road.

"Sam might have to do these trials that we got involved with to shut Hell for good but I will not lose him," knowing how sick his brother was getting, Dean was more aware than Sam knew just how badly this second trial was messing him up. "I will do whatever it takes to let him do this third one but I'm not letting this thing drag him down with it.

"I made him a promise that nothing bad would ever happen to him while he was with me and this time I'm bringing him out of this even if I have to carry him out like I did when he was a baby," the vow was quiet but firm as Dean caught a glimmer of a smile of his Dad's scruffy bearded face. "What?"

John chuckled. "That's what I mean about them not breaking the part of you that makes you the son I raised, Dean. No matter what, no matter who you face, no one can break your spirit. No one can break that bond you have with your brother and that's what will pull you both through this."

"Henry said it's because we're Winchesters," Dean was more cautious when he said this since he knew what his Dad thought of his early life. "Y'know, I really could give you a hard time about having a music box that played 'As Time Goes By' when you were a kid."

"Considering some of the stuff I let slide when you were young I wouldn't…what did you say?" John stared at Dean for a long moment while trying to recall if he'd ever mentioned that to either of his boys.

He knew he would occasionally whistle the old song but since he could barely recall his early childhood he didn't think he'd ever spoken of that little music box. Then the name sank in and a piece of John grew cold. "Dean, who told you about that?" he demanded warily.

"Yeah, well since I'm talking to _my_ supposedly dead father I guess this would be a good time to mention that Sam and I met _your_ time-traveling father who had a very interesting story to tell…before he…died trying to save Sam," Dean arched a brow as if to mean that he could give as could as he got. "Henry Winchester, the owner of the journal you had, that Sammy and I now have and a guy who had a very low opinion of hunters."

Not used to being the one at a loss for words, John remained silent for a long while before scrubbing a hand over his face. "Dean, what in the hell have you and Sam been up to?" he couldn't figure out how this had happened since he'd been close to the boys except for that one time when he'd checked out a lead on his own. "My dad took off one night when I was…"

"Four, yeah. He told us that he put you to bed, told you he was going to work but he actually went to get fully initiated into this Men of Letters thing and…it went bad," Dean sighed, figuring if he was hard headed than convincing his Dad of this one would be like cutting Sam's hair for the first time…a huge pain in his ass.

"The short of it, the Men of Letters was a secret society that knew a lot about anything but before Henry could get all the knowledge or get sworn in this demon chick, Abbadon, killed the guys. He did a blood spell to jump time which shot him out of mine and Sammy's hotel closet one day and he and I didn't exactly hit it off," he wondered if that was a personality flaw of his or just something in the Winchester attitude.

"Apparently this Men of Letters thing was big and it's gone way back in the Winchester line…which means Campbells hunting on the Mayflower ain't so big now, and we are legacies…whatever the hell that means since the group sort of went extinct," the younger man shrugged then sighed. "It also means that your Dad, Henry, he didn't abandon you, Dad. He tried to go back, to change it from happening once he learned what you thought but…if he had Sam would've died and…"

Listening to the hesitance in Dean's normally easy going voice told John what must have happened. He had a hard time thinking of his own long lost father as some sort of super spy or however Dean described this group, but what he did recall of the man reminded him that his father, while torn between going back to his own time to his son or saving his grandson, would have chosen saving Sam…of course he also figured his Dad had help with the choice.

"You make the choice or did he?" he asked, hiding his small grin at the why Dean squirmed. "Knocked him out, didn't you, son?"

"I wanted my brother, so yeah," Dean replied shortly, reaching into his pocket for his wallet to remove something. "He had this so I figure you might want it," he held out the photo that Henry had been carrying. "You didn't talk too much about your past but…I really don't think he planned to leave you. Sam and I figure he escaped through time but died here and couldn't make it back to you. Dad…"

Standing to take a few steps away while considering this new curve in his life, John thought back to how he'd felt when strangers had arrived to take him away. The bitterness he'd held toward his own father on top to the things he'd endured growing up had certainly helped to shape the man he became.

He'd tried to avoid making the same mistakes with his own sons as had been made in his life but in the end he guessed he'd still left the boys feeling as abandoned and insecure as he'd felt at four and was relieved to know that his father had at least gotten to meet his grandsons and had helped to save his youngest.

"He said he was proud and I think he meant it," Dean stood up slowly since he still knew how unpredictable his Dad could be and hadn't quite let himself believe in this yet. "Gotta admit that I liked him better than Samuel."

John laughed at that. He hadn't been a fan of Samuel Campbell either and if he'd known then what he did now about the man, about the family of hunters, he would've made damn sure they couldn't touch his family.

A look at Dean's eyes told him that his sons encounters with that side of their family also hadn't been good and he hoped to hell they didn't need to deal with them again, though something Sam had said warned him that it wouldn't be that simple.

"So, you're legacies now?" he didn't know what that meant but it made Dean smile a little more which was something John always noticed his son didn't do much of after Mary died, unless it was to make his brother relax or he was flirting with a girl. "That what the new hangout's about?"

"Yeah but I really don't want to think about how close you've been," Dean's more cautious side made him wary about anyone knowing about the Men of Letters base then waved a hand. "Sammy can be a Man of Letters. I keep telling him I'm more of the grunt hunter type which pisses him off to no end."

That didn't surprise John since he was more than aware of how protective Sam was of his older brother and he was sure of the lengths that Sam would also go for Dean.

He'd often wished that Mary could see the men her sons had grown into and was confident that she'd be as proud of them as he was, though he also knew she'd be less than thrilled with him on how he'd brought Sam and Dean up.

"You know what's coming won't be easy," he wished that he could tell Dean differently. "There are limits to what I can do."

"Hell, I'm still trying to decide if you're real or I'm just too tired and am having a really vivid dream," Dean shrugged, hearing his name being called by the nurse. "How bad's he hurt?"

Knowing Dean meant Sam, John shook his head. "From tonight? That cut seemed to be the worse but he was going downhill before that," he narrowed his eyes in a way that reminded Dean of when he'd been a teenager and his pesky little brother had pulled a stunt that didn't impress their Dad. "Sam was getting sick tonight but it seems his phone died on him before he could call you. I didn't plan on letting either of you see me, Dean."

"Yeah, kind of figured that since from what I'm guessing and from what I was hearing about some weirdo asking about us you've been watching over Sam since I was in Purgatory which also means you let him put a dog in my baby," Dean rolled his eyes, still ticked off about that little matter but didn't miss the warning tone. "I know. He's…getting worse and as soon as I get him home I'm benching his butt until I think he can at least stand up straight."

"Uh-huh, good luck with that plan, son," John decided, remembering all too well how stubborn his youngest son could be and especially knowing how he got if he thought his brother was coddling him. "You okay?"

"Oh, sure. I learn my dead father's been resurrected by someone to do something that he doesn't even know what and I get told that all the crap I've taken the blame for since Hell hasn't really been my fault. Yeah, I get that every day," Dean rolled his eyes then growled under his breath when he was slapped in the head again. "Did you give Sammy this peppy speech?"

"One like it though I doubt if he'll remember it," John wasn't sure since Sam had been pretty out of it. "You'll tell him what you want to about this…but just tell him that I was always proud of him, just like I still am proud of both of you."

Waving a hand at the louder call to him, Dean suddenly frowned. "You're not…coming in, are you?" that didn't surprise him since something in his gut just said that it wasn't that time yet for their Dad to be this out in the open. "Why did you let us see you? I mean, I get with Sam since he was in trouble and I appreciate you bailing his butt out but…"

"You're my sons, Dean. No matter what happened in the past, how much I've screwed up or what may happened in the future you and Sam will always be my sons," John replied, looking toward the hospital almost wistfully then faced his oldest with a realistic look on his face. "Sam may or may not remember seeing me but I did want to see you, to at least explain what I could and say…I'm…sorry."

"Nope, there again…you are not my Dad cause my Dad just does not apologize," Dean knew he was being a smart ass and expected the slap to the back of his head this time. "What? You don't."

"Shut up and go see your brother, smart guy," John growled, swearing that he didn't know how in the world his oldest son lived this long with the mouth he'd gotten from his mother. "Dean…wait…"

Debating on actually doing what he'd been considering, Dean turned at his father's voice to see what else he might say then had to work hard not to either gasp or let his mouth fall open in shock when the man who'd taught him all his no chick flick moment rules pulled him into a hard hug.

"I guess this is what Sam feels when I do this to him," he muttered, returning the gesture fully then stepping back but still felt the grip John had on his shoulders. "You gonna be around?"

"As much and as close as I can be for as long as I'm allowed," John nodded, giving a final tight squeeze to his son's shoulders before letting go. "Go on, go see your brother."

John waited until Dean was a good two feet away before calling out to him. "Dean! Watch out for Sammy," he shook his head at the returned gesture since he knew Dean would always take care of his brother. It was the taking care of himself part that he worried about his elder son doing.

Leaving something on the dashboard of the Impala, John got back in his car to drive back into the shadows that he'd been dealing with since his return only to pause with a last look at the hospital where his sons were. "I love you boys," he whispered, putting the Corolla in gear while promising himself and Mary that he'd find some way to shield the boys even if it meant his life again. "Goodbye, Sam. Goodbye, Dean."

**Inside the hospital:**

"He's still a little confused and shaky but that's to be expected considering the amount of blood he lost," a white coated doctor was saying as he led Dean to a room back in the ER. "He's insisting on releasing himself but I don't think that's a…"

"Is he in danger if he does?" Dean knew Sam would want out of the hospital as fast as he could since his brother didn't like or trust the places and because he knew with how he was now it would be too easy for the medics to freak out if he starting coughing up blood.

A very definite frown was shot his way but the doctor merely shook his head. "No, not if he's careful but it would be…"

"Against medical advice, yeah. Been there, done that before," Dean assured the man, tapping a finger on the chart. "Just go draw up the usual AMA release papers cause if Sam wants out there's very little I can do to talk him out of it."

Waiting for the clearly unhappy doctor to stalk off, Dean blew out a breath before stepping into the ER exam room to shoot his own unhappy look toward the bed. "So, this is the last time I let you go near a damn library on your own, Sammy."

"Shut up and use the indoor tone of voice," Sam winced as his head seemed to throb. "I want out."

"Just hold on while the doctor who stitched you up is getting the AMA papers ready," Dean eyed his brother critically, catching the bruises as well as the bandage on his head but what he wanted to see was Sam's side. "What happened?" he asked while gently easing the T-shirt that Sam had struggled back into up to growl low in his throat.

"Felt like shit, couldn't call you and I got jumped," Sam sighed, expecting the usual lecture from his brother only to blink when he felt the hand on his shoulder. "There was five of them but I still should've been able to…"

Shaking his head like only an older brother could, Dean light his grip tighten carefully. "You're hurt and I shouldn't have left you knowing that so we both learned a lesson tonight," he shrugged it off easily while debating on going back to rip the lungs out of the thug he'd seen. "We'll get you outta here and then you're doing nothing but resting until I get a handle on where Kevin's at."

Wanting to argue that he'd be fine, Sam shut his mouth while laying back since he couldn't leave without signing papers.

Watching his brother move around the room restlessly, Sam bit his lip as if considering what he wanted to bring up. "Dean? I know it was probably the shock of everything and the pain but…what would you say if I told you I saw…Dad?" he winced at the thought of the pain his head would be in at the tone of voice his brother was probably going to use. "Saw and talked to him."

"You saw Dad," Dean mused, keeping his back to his brother while deciding how best to handle this one. "What he say?"

"Umm, that nothing was my fault. That he was sorry for how we grew up and that basically…he was proud of me…of us," Sam's head hurt so while he thought there was more to it than that he really couldn't recall it right then.

Plus he was pretty certain he'd been dreaming anyway. "He…also said that nothing was your fault. I guess I saw Dad cause I was thinking about him before I was jumped," he sighed, surprised to feel sad. "Dean?"

About to let Sam believe he had been seeing things so that in case they never saw their Dad again he wouldn't be upset or confused, a single look into still huge puppy looking hazel eyes and Dean blew that plan up with a deep breath.

"He said he was proud of you, Sammy and that he loved us…of which I got slapped in the head by pointing out that our father never used that word in most of my life," he replied slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed to take notice of the blood on his brother's shirt and feeling his fist curl again. "Dad was…chatty to say the least."

Blinking to clear his tired eyes, it was several seconds before Sam's eyes popped open to stare at his brother. "Come again?" he wasn't sure he'd heard Dean right. "You…you saw him? I wasn't…but Dad's…I think I'm going to be sick."

Keeping a supportive hand on his brother's neck, Dean did grab a trashcan in case Sam was being literal. "I can't give you hard answers on why he'd alive or if he's alive really…I don't think Dad knows himself but all I know is he was damn solid when I punched him."

"You…punched Dad?" if he'd felt better Sam knew his eyes would've bugged out then smirked as he recalled the times he had seen his Dad and brother get into a fight and how it usually turned out. "You still get your ass handed to you?"

"Shut up, bitch," Dean growled then turned as he heard the doctor coming. "Best not so sick-sick guy act, little brother," he urged, preparing to give the best performance of his life if it meant getting Sam signed out of this place.

Thirty minutes, a fight with a doctor and some shaky steps later Dean was finally able to close the passenger door of the Impala after getting Sam settled.

"I hate doctors," he muttered to himself, jerking open the door to get behind the wheel when he caught sight of what was dangling from Sam's hand and swore his lungs had stopped working again. "Where…?"

"It was on the dashboard along with a note," Sam's hand shook as he held out the small gold amulet that he'd last seen dropping into a trashcan of a motel close to three years earlier. "It says for you not to lose it again. Um, do you want it or…"

Regretting the stupid move to throw away the amulet that Sam had given him the Christmas Sam was eight just because Zachariah's trip to what Dean now believed was a fake version of Heaven or mostly fake, he reached out to take it from his brother while not missing the way Sam's breathing had become shaky while waiting to see his reaction.

"Hang on a second," getting back out of the car to go dig into the trunk, Dean took a long moment to stare at what he'd been searching for before knowing it was the right thing to do. "So, you feel like eating cause I'm starving?"

Not wanting to admit that all he really felt like doing was sleeping, Sam shifted carefully so the stitches in his side didn't pull or tear when he blinked the sudden burning tears out of his eyes.

Seeing the gold amulet back around his brother's neck was one huge relief for Sam since that little thing had always meant something to them, it had been a huge bond between them. A bond that Sam had feared he'd lost but it was smelling the familiar scent of gun oil and aftershave on the old battered leather jacket that he hadn't seen his brother wear since that day in a cemetery in Stull that really made things feel real for him.

"You…I thought you'd…um," he tried to say something without falling into chick flick moment but couldn't when he watched his brother's face for a long moment and for just a second Sam was taken back to a time when things were so much easier. "Ever miss fighting Wendigos?"

"Only every day, little brother," Dean smiled, starting the engine and feeling right for the first time in a long time while sliding a smirk over to Sam. "Garth said he's hunting a Bigfoot so I figure he'll be getting ate pretty soon."

"One almost ate Caleb," Sam recalled, letting his head rest on the seat while hearing the music come on and playing along. "We really need to update this cassette collection you insist on hanging onto."

"Everything nearly ate Caleb and if you touch my tapes I am so ending you, Sammy," Dean shot back with a grin, watching as his brother slowly fell to sleep like he always would and knowing that Sam would sleep the full trip back to Kansas unless he stopped at a motel.

To Dean his brother looked pale and sick but knew that it wasn't all because of the knife wound. These trials were taking more of a toll on Sam than either of them had counted on and Dean knew that while he could no longer call do-over that he would do his best to keep Sam alive if for no other reason than he wanted to see his father and brother together at least one more time.

Feeling the weight of the amulet back where it belonged, Dean smiled in the dark and drove them back toward the main road while wondering how his Dad had gotten the amulet and if it was better off if he didn't know.

He and Sam had come to Vermont looking for a case and both had found a meeting with something from their past. The talk with John had helped Dean more than he'd admit even though he still had questions and knew Sam would too.

Right then though he was happy that his little brother was still moving and that at least in some way he had another form of back up in keeping Sam safe…until the next trial and then Dean could only pray they all came out of it alive.

**The End**

**A/N: **_Thanks for reading. This chapter turned longer than I planned. I hope everyone enjoyed it and I look forward to hearing from you. Be sure to look for new stories coming soon and check out the page on Facebook for updates as well. Just look up morgana07 and the page for 'Supernatural Fan Fiction by morgana07 should pop up. Thanks!_


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